In Which: I recover from a hellish experience.

I hope I didn't leave anyone on tenterhooks, but really...I had to take some time to recover before I could possibly post. Behold the instruments of my incarceration:


a harness, and a Cat carrier. I don't care how soft the blankie, it was extremely upsetting to be dropped feet first into an upended box, bars snapped shut, and carried into that noisome car. Besides which, I had to listen to Elmore Leonard's The Hot Kid for three days. And the nights! In smelly (not a good smelly, oh no) rooms with no air circulation. I protested loudly to no avail. Loudly and constantly, if I do say so myself. Yes, it was horrible. And for what? I still don't know.


So here we are, in a strange house. My librarian and I are sharing this (rather large) house with others. I hid in the dank lower level for hours the first day in protest of my enforced move until hunger and the need for pampering and caresses drove me upstairs. I do allow them to pet me.


There obviously have been other Cats here before and these people appear to understand my rudimentary needs. I've been able to maintain my rigorous napping schedule, and there are numerous nooks and crannies in which to snooze. So here I remain. The librarian acts as if nothing happened, even placing the dreaded Cat carrier in my new sitting room as if it were a special furnishing. Ugh! She can't fool this kitty.


Oh, by the way, I went to the vet, and he was impressed with my overall health and good looks. I feel vindicated in some odd way. Yes, I am Fatty Kitty, all 12.9 pounds of me. Yeoooowwwwllll!